Song (Morris)

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by Gouverneur Morris
From McClure's Magazine/Volume 20, April 1903, p.574

Your kiss, beloved, was to me
As if all flowers of Araby,
And every fresh and fragrant rose
That ever blew, shall blow, or blows
Had all her sweetness taken up
And poured into one perfect cup
For me to drain. . . .
Kiss me again!